Our Last Twilight
by Rebecca Redd
Summary: Edward, a small town boy with a chip on his shoulder, grew up wanting only one person: Bella Swan, a daddy's girl who never had time for him. When the zombie apocalypse begins and the dead rise, Bella finds herself forced to take notice of the man who's never forgotten her. AU. Chapter 7 up in Edward's POV!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hello! Thanks for reading _Our Last Twilight_. If you have a minute to review, I'd love some feedback! Feel free to alert me to any errors or typos you notice, since I'd definitely like to fix them.

As you may or may not have noticed, this story is rated M, but mostly for sexiness later on, rather than for violence, which I'm going to try to keep to a minimum (well, as much as I can, considering the dead are rising).

Enjoy!

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"Oh, for God's sake!" The words slipped out before she could help it, and the sound of her own voice startled her. Bella hadn't spoken for days, maybe even a week. At first the quiet had suffocated her, but she had slowly grown accustomed to it, and now speech was stranger than the silence had ever been.

She wondered how long she would have gone without speaking if she hadn't found herself grappling with the stupid vending machine. She was at the Visitors Center of Shard Lake State Park. She had fled to the park after the small town where she was visiting friends had been overrun by…

Well, the dead.

Bella waited for the nausea that normally accompanied the thought of the dead, but it was fainter than usual- probably because there was nothing for her to throw up. She hadn't eaten since around the time she had last spoken. She had found the visitor's center today, after hunting for it for four days. It was only thanks to dumb luck that she had stumbled upon it before she succumbed to dehydration. Shard Lake State Park was huge, and the Visitors Center was smack in the middle of it.

The center appeared to be abandoned, which was at once a disappointment and a relief. She would have appreciated another human for company, but if there weren't any people nearby then it was unlikely that the dead were hanging around either. She had nearly cried when she'd walked in the door and found herself face to face with the racks of chocolate, energy bars, and gum. If she hadn't been so utterly exhausted, she probably would have sat down and had a good cry.

There were also a number of maps, which might prove useful, and an absurd quantity of birdwatcher's guides, which were totally useless- unless they happened to include notes on which birds were easiest to catch and cook. But what Bella really wanted was inside of the vending machine; so close, yet just beyond her grasp.

Water.

Beautiful, precious, untainted, unattainable water.

She was tempted just to grab the heaviest item she could find and smash the glass, but what if that set off some kind of alarm? She wasn't worried about the police showing up, but any loud noises would attract _them_.

The dead. She had outrun them before, when she'd escaped from that godforsaken town, but that had been days ago. She was weak now, so thirsty that her head pounded and she was seeing double. The dew that she'd collected from the grass that morning was the only liquid she'd consumed in almost forty-eight hours. She could barely walk, let alone run. Until her strength was back, her survival depended upon her ability to remain undetected.

She'd tried throwing herself at the vending machine a few times. She'd had a friend in high school who had been able to get anything he wanted out of a vending machine just by leaping on it and shaking it. Granted, he had been 6'2" and she was 5'2", but she had been hoping that her desperation would help her.

Nope. It looked like she was going to have to smash the damn thing, and hope that the noise didn't wake the dead. Literally. But first she needed to catch her breath. Shaking the machine had winded her, and she was trembling. Her blood sugar was so low that it was probably in the negative. She sank to her knees in front of the vending machine, wrapping her arms around herself and waiting for the tremors to subside.

This was definitely not what she'd had planned when she'd graduated from Stanford less than six weeks ago.

No, less than six weeks ago she had been graduating with honors and a B.A. in English. Less than six weeks ago, she'd gotten the news that her book, a coming of age novel set in her hometown, Forks, had been accepted for publication. Less than six weeks ago, her long-term boyfriend, Jacob, had proposed. Less than six weeks ago she'd had parents, friends, love, and a life.

Now she had dehydration and the terrible fear that she would never see any of them again.

Oh God. Bella closed her eyes. She tried not to think about Jacob or her family. It was too hard, too terrifying. If she believed for one minute that they were all dead, she wouldn't be able to go on. In the past few weeks, living had become a struggle. Isabella needed something to struggle for, or she'd end up like the broken people that she'd passed on the road to the park: stumbling, senseless shells of human beings, almost as lifeless as the dead who preyed on them.

No, it was better to think about her plans. Better to think about how this whole apocalypse thing had screwed up her _life_. Better to think about how goddamn irritating it was that she'd spent two years writing, editing and submitting a novel, only for the world to end just a few short months before it was about to become available in Barnes & Noble.

Making herself angry was a technique that she had learned in the early days of the outbreak, and it had saved her in moments when terror and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her. It was working even now. She was getting good and mad when there was a soft scraping sound from outside the building. Instantly, fear replaced anger.

_Please, __**please**__ just be the wind_. Bella moved quietly, going from her knees to a tense, crouched position. She couldn't afford to be chased away from the visitor's center before she'd gotten a drink. She wouldn't last much longer without some water. Cocking her head, she listened, waiting to hear the soft hissing and moaning that the dead made when they were closing in on their dinner.

There was nothing. Not a sound. No shuffling footsteps, no growling. Bella waited another minute, but it seemed that luck was with her.

How very unusual.

Bella slowly stood. She still felt shaky, but the little scare had reminded her that she didn't have time to waste. She needed water, and then she needed to find someplace safe, someplace where she could actually get some sleep.

_Sleep_. God, she missed sleep. She remembered lazy Saturday mornings in bed with Jacob. He'd read the paper and drink coffee while she sipped tea and proofread her book.

She'd give anything for a good night's sle-

There was another noise, and not just any noise. A foot step. The sound of someone or something climbing the creaky steps of the visitor's center. She was not alone. Her skin crawled, and her blood pounded so thickly that she could feel it in her temples, in the heady, dizzy feeling that came before complete and utter panic.

There was only one way in and out of the visitor's center, and that was the front door. If whatever it was came in the front door, then she would either have to go through a window, or run up three flights of stairs to the wildlife observation deck.

_Please don't come inside. Please don't come inside._

The creature paused outside the door, and then Bella saw the doorknob turn.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Hello! I want to thank everyone who has reviewed/favorited/followed! I'm glad that people are enjoying this story, since I'm having a ton of fun writing it.

Drop me a line if you have a minute, and, once again, feel free to point out any mistakes.

Enjoy!

* * *

Bella didn't wait any longer. She turned, tried to run but tripped over her own backpack, barely catching herself before she fell on her face. She darted behind a shelf full of field guides, crouching out of sight just before the door banged open. From where she hid she couldn't see whoever had entered, but she heard the muffled footsteps as the intruder walked across the Visitors Center.

_Twenty-two is way too young to die. _

She shifted, trying to remain out of sight as the footsteps came her way, and her hair fell into her face, tickling her neck and obscuring her vision. Every muscle in her body was strained, sending shivers up and down her spine and she could feel every pound of her pulse from her temples to her toes. Running was no longer an option. Whoever it was had come too close. She was going to have to fight, and hope that these dead things could die...  
Again.

The footsteps were now far too close for comfort, so she turned, bending backwards until she could reach one of a number of hand carved walking sticks that were on display behind her. She felt just a little bit better when her fingers closed around the heavy wooden shaft. At least she wasn't outnumbered. One on one, surely she could vanquish a single walking corpse?

Some of the last reports that she'd heard before she'd fled civilization had mentioned that damaging the brain was the only way to fend off the creatures.  
Bella swallowed, trying to banish the images that popped into her mind when she pictured a walking corpse with a damaged brain.

_Gross, gross, gross._

But anything was better than being devoured alive.

Moving as quietly as she could, Bella pulled the walking stick toward her, flinching when it banged against one of the other sticks and made a dull knocking sound. As the footsteps echoed ever closer, she grasped the stick with both hands, her fingers clenching around the wood until her knuckles shone bone-white through her skin.  
The unwelcome visitor was less than three strides away from her now, and Bella resisted the urge to turn and peek at whatever it was. She would just scare herself. The last thing she needed was to be paralyzed with fear at the very moment when she needed to act. _Swing first, look later_, Bella instructed herself.

Finally, the footsteps stopped just behind the shelf where she stood. Part of Bella wanted to lay still hope that it would keep walking, but if she waited until it noticed her, then it would be too late for her to fend it off. No, summoning what little strength remained in her battered body, Bella jumped to her feet, uttered a shrill "Hya!" and swung the stick with all her might towards the figure that loomed over her.

The intruder was taller than she had been expecting, and her eyes closed reflexively as she swung, so she ended up hitting it lower than she had planned.  
By the time her eyes reopened, the creature had groaned and doubled over, and it was at that point that her fight instinct abandoned her and her flight reflex kicked in. Leaving her backpack, she flung the stick away from her, whirled and ran for the stairs.

She heard a sound behind her, but couldn't quite identify it over the blood that rushed through her ears. The stairs were directly ahead of her and she lunged for them, one hand curling around the railing as she pulled herself up the steps, nearly falling again when she banged her knee against the wall. She was halfway up the stairs when one noise penetrated the haze of terror and adrenaline.

"Hey!"

Bella missed the next step, and only her hand on the railing stopped her from tumbling all of the way down the stairs.

"_Hey_! I'm alive, you idiot!"

Bella whirled, the motion making her so dizzy that she swayed on her feet.

_Dear God. _He was alive_._

She stared at him, allowing her eyes to take in his tall, well sculpted frame, the shining bronze hair that fell into his eyes, his wide, bare chest, and the shotgun that he wore strapped over one shoulder. He was alive.

Not particularly well kempt- he had a bit of a Tarzan look going on, what with the ripped jeans and the six inch knife on his belt, but definitely, gloriously, alive.

And oddly _familiar_…


	3. Chapter 3

How strange. Bella couldn't quite place the powerful sense of recognition that swept through her at the sight of the handsome stranger's face. She gripped the railing as a wave of dizziness hit her, and he took a single step toward her, his eyes fixed on her face with an intensity that was almost frightening.

"Have we met?" Bella's voice was raspy from lack of use, so she swallowed and tried again. "Do I know you?"

The stranger hesitated, licking his lips, and the strange look on his face slowly faded. "Were you bitten?" His gaze swept her entire body, and Bella shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

"Bitten?"

His gaze returned to her face. "Yes, bitten. It's how you become one of _them_."

It took Bella a minute to work out what he meant, and then her eyes widened. "Is that how the sickness spreads? They hadn't figured it out when I last watched the news. I was worried it was airborne. That's good news then. You have to be bitten to get sick." For the first time in days, Bella found herself smiling. She'd been terrified that it was in the air, in the food, in the water. She'd worried that she was already suffering from the sickness. But since she hadn't been bitten, she couldn't be turning into one of _them_ yet.

"I wouldn't call it good news, exactly. Maybe if it could spread through the air they'd be breathing on people instead of ripping us apart." the man drawled, and she liked the sound of his voice. It managed to be rough and melodious at the same time. His eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you weren't bitten? You'd better sit down." He seemed worried, and Bella wondered if she looked as sick as she felt.

"Maybe I'd better." She walked very slowly down the stairs, gripping the railing and placing each foot carefully, and sat on the bottom step. She tensed a little when he approached her, his large frame blotting out the afternoon sun that streamed in the windows. He wasn't one of the infected, but that didn't mean that he couldn't hurt her. The most terrifying thing about the epidemic was the way that people had responded to it. Panic had set in, many decent people had lost their minds, and bad people had been free to wreak havoc as they wished. There had been atrocities everywhere, people rioting and killing and committing unspeakable crimes.

Bella still couldn't recall where she recognized the man from, and until she did remember all she knew was that he was strong and casually carrying two lethal weapons. She hadn't escaped from the undead so that she could be assaulted and murdered. She flinched when he reached for her with one large arm, and he paused, backing up a pace and holding up his hands as if to show that he was harmless.

"I wanted to see if you had a fever." He told her, speaking slowly and softly, as if she were a skittish animal he was trying to tame.

"I don't. I wasn't bitten. I just need water." Bella told him. "I was trying to break into the vending machine when you startled me. I was going to get water from the bathroom, but-"

"It's locked," the man finished for her. "I know. I've been looking for the keys." Keeping a foot or so between them, he crouched in front of her, balancing easily on the balls of his feet. She could see smooth, perfect skin through the holes in his jeans, and she wondered why he looked so good. She was sunburned, bugbitten, scratched, starving and sore. His hair was a bit messy and he had a slight tan, but otherwise she didn't get the impression that he was suffering.

"Who are you?" She asked him quietly, but he ignored her and reached into his pocket.

"Here," he said, pulling out a flask. "It's only water," he assured her when she hesitated.

Under normal circumstances accepting a drink from a strange man was a big no-no, but Bella wasn't sure what the rules were when you were about to die of dehydration, so she took the flask.

He seemed satisfied as she took a long drink, then another, and then a third. The water wasn't particularly cold, but Bella couldn't have cared less. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and as the liquid slid down her throat Bella felt as close to blissful as one could get after the apocalypse. She heard the man moving around the visitor's center while she drank, and when she opened her eyes there was a chocolate bar and a bag of chips sitting next to her on the step.

"You'd better eat those quickly," the man told her. "And go ahead and finish the water. I'll get us more." He crossed to the vending machine, and before Bella could even blink he had kicked the glass in. The sound of the glass shattering was sharp, but brief.

"No alarm?" Bella couldn't believe it. All that worrying for nothing.

The man turned to regard her, surprise in his eyes. "How long have you been wandering around out there?" He asked her. "There hasn't been any electricity for four days."

"Oh."

"Go ahead and eat," the man told her as he stepped back, his boots crunching over the remains of the vending machine window. "I'm going to find a bag to carry all of this stuff in, and then we'll go."

"Go?" Bella looked up, her mouth suddenly going dry. "Go where?"


	4. Chapter 4

The man paused, perhaps taken aback by the alarm on her face. "Yes," he said slowly. "We have a-" Suddenly he hesistated, cocking his head as if he heard something.

"What's wrong?" Bella quickly got to her feet, clutching her food in one hand and the stair railing in the other. He didn't answer, and so she focused on trying to hear whatever he was listening to.

More footsteps. Bella flinched. She glanced around the Visitors Center, trying to locate the walking stick that she had tossed away after hitting him with it. He was already reaching for his gun, but she would feel better with a weapon of her own in her hand. There was the familiar creaking sound of someone walking up the porch steps, and Bella tensed as the man man moved towards the door, his steps sure and silent. He took up position behind the door, and then turned his head to glance out of one of the windows at whatever was coming up the steps. He made a gorgeous picture with the sun streaming onto his head and shoulders and making his skin glow and his hair flash like fire, Bella thought, not, of course, that she was interested. She was engaged, after all, she reminded herself and then paused that train of thought before it could lead to the inevitable, terrifying question: whether Jacob was even alive.

Whatever the man saw made him relax, oddly enough, and before Bella could say anything he stepped forward and pushed the Center door open. Much to Bella's surprise, there was a living woman standing in the sunlight, a machete in hand. "Here you are," the woman said briskly, stepping inside and pulling the door behind her. "I got worried when you didn't come back when you said you would… Who's this?" She asked suddenly when she noticed Bella.

"She was in here looking for water," the man explained quickly. He moved as he spoke, crossing to the Center counter, where several backpacks were on display. He selected three and tossed one to the blonde woman. "You shouldn't have left the car," he told her, a line appearing between his brows.

"You're not in charge," the woman told him flatly. She took a few steps forward to inspect Bella, who regarded her with equal curiosity. The woman looked a little more worn out than the man did. Bella had the distinct impression that she was not used to roughing it. Her nails wore the chipped remains of what had probably been a very expensive manicure, and her brand-name leather sandals revealed a matching pedicure. She still looked far better than Bella felt, however, and if you looked past the chipped nails and the long scratch on her face, she was actually quite beautiful. She had the kind of face that made makeup redundant. Her lips were naturally red and pouty, her eyelashes were already long and thick, and her cheekbones didn't need extra definition. Apart from a few bugbites, her skin was practically flawless. "Hi," she said extending a hand. Her tone wasn't overly friendly, and she was still studying Bella as they shook hands.

"I'm Bella," she said, waiting for the woman to introduce herself.

"I'm going to go check the traps," the man spoke. He was moving fast. He had already filled the two backpacks with water and snacks from the vending machine, and now he was walking to the door. "Take the supplies to the car and both of you wait for me there. Don't leave it again," he instructed the woman. "If something goes wrong, I want you both to get out of here. Just drive back to camp."

"Nothing's going to go wrong," the woman said in that same firm tone, "because you are not leaving me to deal with your brothers on my own," her nose wrinkled with distaste. "So be careful."

"Traps?" Bella asked as the man slipped silently out of the front door.

"Traps," the woman confirmed. "I'm surprised that you didn't get caught in one on your way here. You must be very lucky."

"Hardly," Bella snorted.

"Take this," the woman passed Bella one of the full backpacks, and moved to fill a third with what was left in the vending machine. "You can carry it, can't you?" She asked when Bella stumbled a little under the weight.

No, Bella felt like she was ready to collapse, but there was something about this beautiful, coldly confident woman with a machete that made her want to seem strong. "Sure," she said, as confidently as she could manage.

"Good," the woman said, eying her appraisingly, and Bella was struck by the woman's eyes. They were startling eyes, Liz Taylor violet and very piercing. "My name is Rosalie," she revealed finally. "And we'll talk more once we're out of here," she said, zipping up the third backpack. "Here," she said, handing it to Bella, who clasped it awkwardly. "You can manage both of them, can't you?" She asked.

"Sure," Bella repeated, her arms shaking.

"Good." Rosalie swung a backpack over her free arm, and then strode forward, the machete clasped tightly in her hand.


	5. Chapter 5

Outside it was a warm midsummer day. It was that time of the afternoon when the sun flashed off of the leaves and grass and made the whole world glow gold. The softest of breezes touched Bella's hair as she followed Rosalie across the grass to where the SUV was parked behind a stand of twisted oaks, and if she hadn't witnessed the horror herself, she would never have believed that the world had fallen apart.

Rosalie's expression was confident, but as Bella stumbled along behind the blonde she could see the tension in Rosalie's neck and shoulders, in the stiff way that she clutched the machete. There were more scratches, long, deep ones on the back of Rosalie's arms, and Bella wondered what Rosalie's story was, and how she had fallen in with the cryptic bronze-haired man.

When they reached the SUV Rosalie seemed to relax a little. She circled the SUV to make sure that there wasn't anything hiding on the other side of it, and she also crouched down to glance under the car. Once she was certain that they were alone, she opened the back door of the car and gestured for Bella to climb in. Bella gratefully dropped both of the backpacks into the SUV, but hesitated before getting in herself. Rosalie seemed normal enough, if a little cold, but Bella was still reluctant to climb into a vehicle belonging to gun and machete toting strangers.

Rosalie watched her with those stunning eyes and seemed to understand the source of her indecision. "Look at it this way," she said frankly, "what other options do you have?"

They looked at each other for a moment, silently, and they both knew that Bella didn't have any other options. "Thanks," Bella said finally, and climbed in the car.

"Good choice," Rosalie said, getting in the driver's seat. "We have a sort of makeshift camp a few miles from here," she said. "It's good. It's in the middle of a lake. On an island," she clarified when Bella's eyes widened. "It used to be some kind of fishing hotspot or something. There's only one bridge out there, and it's pretty narrow. Easy to defend."

"They can't swim?" Bella asked, ripping open a bag of chips and seizing a handful of them. They both knew who she was referring to.

"Not exactly," Rosalie said, adjusting the rear view mirror so that she could see her own reflection. She touched one of the mosquito bites on her face and frowned. "We've had one or two try to paddle across, but they're not very coordinated, as you've probably noticed. They're bad at walking and even worse at swimming." She combed through her hair with her fingers, but even as she primped with one hand, she gripped the machete with the other.

Bella nodded in response, her mouth full of chips. _Glorious, glorious food_, she thought, reaching for the chocolate bar and breaking off a big piece. She heard Rosalie make a surprised sound and felt obliged to explain. "I haven't eaten in days," she said, covering her mouth as she spoke so that she didn't accidently spit crumbs across the car. "I don't usually eat like this but I'm starving…" Literally, she thought.

She glanced up to see Rosalie's reaction, but the woman wasn't looking at her. A man was emerging from a stand of trees several yards away, and Rosalie's eyes had gone very wide and were fixed on him. Before Bella could even make out the man's features, she knew from the look on Rosalie's face that he wasn't one of the living.

The chocolate bar slipped from Bella's fingers and fell the floor of the car. "He can't get us in here, right?"

Rosalie hit the lock button on her door, popping down all of the locks in the car. "We're not going to stay here long enough to find out," she said grimly, "can you drive?" She twisted around in her seat to look at Bella and frowned at what she saw. "No, you can't drive," she said, "you look like you're ready to faint. I'll drive; you keep an eye out for Edward. "

"I'm not going to faint," Bella protested, climbing into the front seat, even though that brought her closer to the hideous, limping creature with his mauled face and bloodshot dead eyes. _I might throw up though_, she thought. "Who's Edward?"

"The man who found you," Rosalie said, starting the car and putting it into reverse. For some reason the name sounded familiar to Bella, but she didn't have a chance to analyze it because suddenly there was a thud and a popping sound from the back of the SUV.

"Oh my God," Rosalie turned around in her seat. "Jesus. I hit one."

"There are more?" Bella turned, but she couldn't see anything through the back windshield but a smear of blood that was dripping down the glass.

"I knocked him over. Hold on," the car jerked forward, and Bella braced herself with a hand on the dashboard as Rosalie quickly turned the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding missing the dead man who was advancing on them from the front. The corpse reached out with one decaying hand, and Bella had a glimpse of bone fingers and gnashing, chipped teeth before they were shooting past the creature. Her stomach lurched and she reflexively reached for her seatbelt. Rosalie was driving like a wild woman, and Bella didn't want to get thrown from the car into the waiting arms of one of those creatures.

"What about the man… Edward?" Bella asked quickly. "Where is he?"

"That way," Rosalie said, pointing to the left as she turned the car to the right.

"We're not leaving him!" Bella protested, with such vehemence that she surprised herself. She'd only just met him, after all.

"No, we're not," Rosalie agreed. "But we're going to have to take the long way to get to him. I'm not risking getting the car stuck in one of those ditches. That would get us all killed."

Bella nodded her agreement reluctantly, but Rosalie hadn't been waiting for permission. She swerved onto a road that was marked "Park Rangers Only" and nearly swiped the sign in her haste.

"Listen for gunshots," Rosalie ordered her, "He'll use his knife unless he's outnumbered, so if we hear shots something is seriously wrong."

"His knife?" Bella couldn't imagine getting close enough to one of the creatures to knife them, but she rolled down her window down a few inches, listening for shots.  
"What are you putting your window down for?" Rosalie gasped. "Are you crazy? Roll it up."

"You said to listen for shots," Bella said, "how am I supposed to hear them with the window up? Watch out," she added, as a half clothed woman who had been clawed and bitted clean down to the bone staggered across the road.

Instead of swerving, Rosalie floored it. There was a bang and the woman went flying. "Oh God!" This time Bella did gag. "You hit her!"  
"I'm not going to swerve and risk getting in an accident," Rosalie told her. "Do you want to crash, black out and wake up to someone snacking on you?"

Bella was too busy gagging again to answer her.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I have returned! I was so proud of my rigorous updating schedule last year. A perfect record, and then... nothing. Well, I'm back, and the show must go on! As always, I don't own Twilight, and let me know if you see any mistakes since I'd like to fix 'em. Thanks!

* * *

Chapter Six

"Do you see him?" Rosalie all but snarled.

"No!" Bella snapped back. Her face was plastered to the window as they bounced over the park rangers' trail. They hadn't come face-to-face with any more walkers since the one that Rosalie mowed down, but Bella's pulse was pounding in her ears anyway, her palms growing sweatier and sweatier with each moment that passed. What if they couldn't find him? They couldn't keep driving forever and—

"Oh Jesus," her companion said from the front seat.

Instantly Bella's heart was in her mouth. "What?" She asked anxiously, leaning as far forward as her seatbelt would allow. There was a clearing up ahead, and it wasn't empty.

There were three… four… no, _five_ walkers waiting for them. Except… one of the walkers wasn't moving like a dead thing, and something silver flashed in his hand.

"It's Edward!"

"No kidding," Rosalie said, "who did you think it was? And where are you going?" She asked as Bella released her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

"He can't take on four of them alone." Bella protested, although even as the words left her lips she realized that she was in no position to help him. Rosalie was the one with the machete in her lap.

"Two of them," Rosalie corrected. "And yes he can." Sure enough, when Bella looked back, only two of the walkers were still standing. Now that she'd had a minute to take in the scene, it was fairly obvious that Edward wasn't a walker. The strength in his body and the glow of his skin contrasted sharply with the broken, pale limbs of the walkers. The grace and coordination of his movements highlighted their stumbling.

"Does he have a military background?" Bella asked, all thoughts of going to his aid abandoned. He didn't need help. She'd never seen a man more in his element.

"Who knows? I only hooked up with them a week ago, and it's not like we've had a lot of time to all get acquainted. What with all the running for our lives and trying not to get lunched on. All I know is that he's a good man in a fight." This was said as Edward dispatched the last one and wiped blood off his arms with a rag from his pocket. He sheathed the knife and stalked towards the car, hardly even winded.

Bella tore her gaze away from him, distracted by something Rosalie had said. "You said them."

"What?"

"You said you only hooked up with _them_ a week ago. Who are the others? How many of you are there?" As she spoke Edward pulled the passenger side door open and climbed in, meeting Bella's eyes once before nodding to Rosalie.

"Maybe twelve at last count. But someone could have been eaten since then."

Perhaps sensing Bella's alarm, Edward twisted in his seat to face her. "No one's been eaten. Our camp is safe."

Rosalie frowned. "But for how long? There's four walkers right there. How many did you find when you checked the traps? Five days ago there weren't any walkers out here. Three days ago there were one or two." She drove around the clearing and headed back the way they came. Bella checked that her door was locked and then felt around on the floor for the chocolate bar she had dropped. She found it and then settled back in her seat to listen to them argue.

"So they're moving around," Edward said. "It's no different from what any hungry animal would do."

"They're not animals, Edward, and if they keep doubling in number every couple of days we're in trouble."

"So what's your solution?" Edward asked, "not counting the same harebrained scheme you've been peddling for the past four days. We've told you what we think of that. Our camp is the safest place."

"I know it's the safest place," Rosalie said. "It's an island. I'm not stupid. But we can't stay there forever. Sooner or later we're going to need help."

"Why?" Edward asked simply.

Rosalie blew out a frustrated breath, and as they sped down the road Bella caught sight of a blur that was probably the Visitor's Center. It was sort of cheering to see the place and realize how much better off she was now than she had been half an hour ago. She just hoped that she wasn't making a mistake by going with Edward and Rosalie. She was beginning to get the faint impression that Rosalie didn't like her very much, and there was something almost feral about Edward that was undeniably intimidating.

Still, sitting in the backseat of the car, snacking and drinking water as needed, Bella felt some of the tension leaving her body for the first time in weeks. She didn't make a conscious decision to sleep. One minute she was crumpling up an empty bag of Skittles, and the next she was stretched across the backseat, with the upholstery warm under her cheek.

The slam of a car door woke her some time later, and she was still half asleep when a violet-eyed woman leaned into the backseat to shake her awake. It took her a minute to remember Rosalie's name, because something else was bothering her. It hadn't quite come to her while she was awake, but as soon as she fell asleep it moved to the front of her mind.

Edward.

Edward…

_Edward_?

"Edward?" The deep voice wasn't Bella's, it belonged to a man.

"Hey Emmett," a familiar voice responded, and suddenly, all of the little pieces that hadn't quite clicked for Bella came together with a snap.

She sat bolt upright and clambered out of the backseat, pushing past Rosalie in her haste. They were parked on the overgrown bank of an island, and her mouth opened in shock as a huge, bear-like man emerged from a camping tent and approached Edward. This enormous man was also carrying a gun, but that wasn't what surprised her.

"Oh my God," she said, loudly enough to draw the attention of all three of her companions. "I can't believe it."

Edward watched her, but now there was a glint in his eye that hadn't been there before. "What can't you believe, darlin'?" He asked, and this time she heard it: a very familiar Southern drawl. He must have been hiding his accent since they'd met at the Visitors' Center. She couldn't imagine why, but he had been.

Bella frowned in complete confusion. "Cullen? _Edward Cullen_?"

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Leave a review if you have time! Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Well, I had planned to update before now, but it's been a doozy of a week. Anyway, this chapter is a shorty, but… **_**it's in Edward's point of ****view**_**_!_ The story is going to be told primarily from Bella's point of view, but I thought we should at least get an occasional glimpse into Edward's mind. It was fun to write, and since it is short I'm hoping to have another chapter out very soon (perhaps tomorrow). Reviews fuel the writer, so drop me a line to speed up the process! Also, I have another alternate universe Twilight fic posted. It's called ****Take The Money And Run****, and I'm very excited about it. Check it out, if you don't mind that there aren't any zombies. Edward features as a rather snooty FBI agent, and Bella's got her hands full… what with her mother being a fugitive and all.**

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter Seven

"Edward Cullen?"

So she had finally recognized him. He'd wondered if she ever would.

He hadn't believed his eyes when he'd caught his first glimpse of her in the Visitors' Center. It had been something like five years since they'd last seen each other, and they'd both changed, grown up. But her eyes were the same. Big doe-brown eyes. Those eyes had always managed to do something funny to him, and all it had taken was one second of staring into them and he'd known that it was her.

It didn't seem possible. When the world went to hell he'd thought of her, wondered where she was and if she was surviving. He had hoped that she was with her father, a sheriff and a relatively competent man who had the very least had access to weapons. He had dreamed of her more than once in the weeks after the outbreak, imagined her frightened and lost. He had assumed that she was halfway across the country, either with one of her parents or at Stanford. It had never occurred to him that she might be nearby. If he'd known...

A million thoughts had gone through his mind when he'd realized that the half-feral girl who'd attacked him was Bella Swan. He couldn't imagine how she had survived on her own. She'd been one of the most delicate girls at their high school, all pale slender limbs and shy whispers. He couldn't picture her fighting her way past walkers, or surviving in the wilderness. Yet there she was. She was shaking and paler than usual, but she was alive.

And very, very sick. Then he'd had the horrible thought that she might have been bitten. It was only as he was scanning her for bites that something strange occurred to him: she didn't seem surprised to see him. Oh, she was surprised to have encountered another person alright, but she didn't seem surprised that it was him. She didn't seem taken aback, there was no...

Recognition.

How could she not recognize him?

She did look at him oddly, and after a moment of staring she finally asked if they had ever met before.

Well, there was nothing quite like the object of your high school obsession politely inquiring if you'd ever met before. For a split second he prepared to reintroduce himself, and then he stopped.

No. Why do that? Why remind her of who he was? He knew what she'd thought of him in high school. In most circles the rowdy Cullen brothers had been thought of as no better than animals. Bella in particular had avoided him as though he was a rabid dog. She'd never been confrontational, never told him off publicly, but there had always been that silent disapproval, maybe even pity, in her eyes when she looked at him. Not that she'd looked at him much. She was the sort who went for the boy next door type. Edward was not, nor had he ever been, the boy next door. It was one of the reasons why he and his brothers were still alive when so many others had been devoured.

But for a few hours it had seemed as though he had a clean slate. She didn't remember him, so it was like they were starting over. Even if she did eventually remember, at least he'd have a chance to show her that he had grown up, that he had matured into something more than some trailer trash kid who was always looking for a fight.

Now, when he watched the expressions on her face as she realized who he was, he had to scoff at his own naiveté. How could he have ever hoped to change her opinion of him? They'd gone to high school together for three years. Already he could see that old look returning to her eyes. That wary, cautious look, as though he was a beast, easily provoked and impossible to contain.

Well, no use trying to hide his accent now. She knew who he was.

And as she took a step away from him, he couldn't help but feel as though she had punched a hole in his chest.


End file.
